


take the long way home (let’s get lost)

by irritable



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen, a good ol' prison escape au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 21:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irritable/pseuds/irritable
Summary: Nyx uses an elbow to prop herself up, the other arm snakes around Two's waist. They meet halfway, the sting of the cold against her skin is nothing compared to the warmth Two unexpectedly feels in the pit of her stomach.They're kissing when they both blink out of the Sim Yard.





	take the long way home (let’s get lost)

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna post this a month ago but ive been frantically reading this over and also dying so yea
> 
> important:  
> \- title from carly rae jepsen  
> \- im a hecking child i dont know how frick fracking works b gentle

 

 

There's a woman towering over Three in his bunk, smirking down at him as he cradles the back of his head.

He blinks hard twice before he up and passes out. 

Of course, he gets himself into trouble less than 24 hours into prison. Of course. "Is this how you make new friends?"

The woman turns, and Two'll be damned if she isn't the single most beautiful woman she's seen in her life. At least, in the portion of it she actually remembers, anyway. 

There's kicking and punching and a firm arm around her throat before Two puts an end to it with a shove towards the wall. The woman grunts when she hits it hard, but she seems mostly unfazed when she straightens up. 

"You're pretty good," the woman says, grinning wildly as she wipes a hand across her mouth. 

"Likewise." She is. She's  _ very  _ good. "We'll call it a draw?"

The woman smirks again and Two knows, balls her fist, before she even starts shaking her head. 

Solitary comes next, then the Sim Yard. 

Her name is Nyx.

* * *

They try to escape. 

They also fail spectacularly. 

Maybe they should've slept on it before executing a half assed escape attempt that ends in shambles and blame tossed around in circles.

Hyperion-8 is apparently inescapable, which  _ isn’t  _ true. Nothing’s completely inescapable, however she really shouldn’t have let Three talk her into “kicking a clean way out of here.” The bad decision making is probably borne out of an intense frustration of being stuck here in the first place; it's her way of a big  _ fuck you _ to fate.

(Fate says  _ fuck you _ back with a loud ringing in all of their ears that lasts for hours afterward.)

They all get solitude, except they keep her in for the longest. She is, after all, the leader of the infamous Raza crew. This time, they meet every day in the Sim Yard and begin to draw up a new plan of attack, a better one. 

Eventually, Three and Four are let out of solitude until it's just her and Nyx yanking the grass out of the ground and bouncing escape ideas off each other, sometimes sparring to pass the time. 

Nyx has her flat on her back for the second time when Two finally just gives up. She sits up and crosses her legs, squinting up at Nyx who has her prison uniform tied around her waist and her tank riding up her midriff. It's too cold here to do anything but huddle up for extended periods of time. 

Nyx laughs at Two, which she scowls at, and joins her on the ground, shoulder to shoulder. She can feel the goosebumps poking out of Nyx's arms, and she shifts just a tiny bit closer. 

"So," Two says, "what did you do to get yourself into a GA max security prison?"

Nyx snorts, idly rubbing her hands over her arms. Two does not miss the way her fingers brush past the space between their arms. It’s silent except for the sound of a zipper being pulled up as Nyx shrugs her uniform back over her arms. 

Then: "Nothing as interesting as murder for hire, thievery, genocide, and corporate espionage." 

"Corporate espionage?" Two mumbles, mostly to herself. Huh, Portia Lin truly was a piece of work. She tucks her knees under her chin and presses her hands into her stomach. "Where'd you learn how to fight like that?"

"You're full of questions, aren't you?"

Her lip twitches and she slants her head so she can look at Nyx's profile. "You're full of deflections, aren't you?"

Nyx rolls her eyes and faces her, almost in challenge. "I can tell the future."

Two scoffs, says " _ bullshit _ " immediately, except she's an illegal synthetic human-android hybrid and her sort-of boyfriend is a trust fund kid wearing the face of a mercenary. The universe is a fickle thing. 

Still, she's just barely convinced. She narrows her eyes. "If you could hypothetically tell the future, then you knew our attempt would fail." 

Nyx sighs and her shoulders hunch up a little. "No, that's not how it works. I can guess the most likely outcome based on predictability and probability." She sighs again. “I didn’t know you guys were even going to start shit until about ten seconds before it happened.”

"That's how you can beat me," Two concludes. 

"Well, sure, but I could probably still kick your ass even if I weren't a seer." Two doubts that, but Nyx smirks, and she forgets about that detail for now. She has a very pretty smile. 

Her fingers curl around the fabric of her prison uniform and she inhales sharply. Unpredictability means an advantage, and there's nothing wrong with having the upper hand. This is her reasoning behind her next move. She slants her head and her eyes zone in on Nyx’s face. "If you can actually tell the future, what am I going to do next?"

She doesn't want to think about it too hard. So maybe she's feeling a little self destructive. 

There's a brief moment where Nyx's eyebrows twitch, maybe her jaw clenches too, and she blinks, realization dawning on her. "You're–"

And she's gone in a flash of light. 

Two jerks forward, one hand reaching into the empty space next to her, and her fist closes around nothing. 

A day later, in the middle of the night, she's let out of solitary and is led back into her cell like an animal on a leash, being prod in the back by a shock stick. 

“That was 5 days, Portia Lin,” the guard says her name like it's a joke. “Pull that anarchy shit again and I’ll make it 5  _ months _ .”

She can't wait to get out of here. 

* * *

In the morning, Three's leaning over her with his usual haughty grin. "Rise and shine, Ms. Solitary." 

She rolls her eyes and pushes him away, hard enough that he stumbles into the wall behind him. "Where's Four and Nyx?"

Three glowers but replies anyway. "They're already at a table eating some slush for breakfast." 

Two grunts an acknowledgment and combs a hand through her hair. "Okay. Just give me a minute and I'll be down." 

He shrugs and takes a chunk out of the apple in his hand. "Better hurry – the good breakfast slush might run out." 

She follows him down to the main section soon enough since there's not much to do in the first place; she's only got two sets of identical prison uniforms and cold water to clean herself up. 

Four's pretty much done with his meal, a whole plate of 'food' left untouched in front of him, and Nyx is scraping at the bottom of a yogurt container when she sits down. 

The boys glare at each other on opposite sides of the table. She knows it’s her own fault for enabling Three’s incredibly  _ stupid _ plan.

She loses her appetite after about two mouthfuls of food and ends up swirling a plastic spoon in her yogurt. 

So far, their new plan is still mostly a rip off of their first, and she needs them all focused before continued planning, let alone even attempting it. 

“Sort out whatever problem it is you two have with each other," she bites out, fed up, as she pushes herself to her feet. "We have bigger things to deal with outside of blaming each other."

Their biggest one at present is causing a riot big enough to make the warden send in reinforcements. There's truly a myriad of  _ other  _ problems, but that's currently their biggest, and Two just wants to deal with them one at a time. It's easier. 

Of course, it's rarely ever easy. Two should be used to complicated now. One had taught her that much. (There's a pang of guilt somewhere, but they never talked about exclusivity, and they were a bit weird there towards the end anyway.) 

She briefly wonders how he is, how Five is, but shakes those thoughts off. Nyx is close behind her, rooting her in the present. 

She sits herself down on her bed before looking Nyx in the eye. "What's up?" 

Nyx is silent, thinking hard if her frown is anything to go by, and she scuffs at the floor with the heel of her boot. "I know what you were going to do. Before I was let out of solitude."

Oh. She was foolishly hoping Nyx would have gotten it wrong or forgotten altogether. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Nyx says, smiling. So much for unpredictability. There's a white strip of light shining off her eyes and Two closes the distance so that she casts a shadow over Nyx's face, blocking the light.

It's Nyx who leans in first. Two was never going to make the first move, and she knew that. 

She makes the second though. 

Her hands grip at Nyx's waist and she walks them into the wall, Nyx still one step ahead, always guessing right. 

Nyx's lips are soft; Two reckons it’s due to the contraband cherry flavored lip gloss she likes, except before she can part their lips and slip her tongue out to taste it, Nyx is pushing her back. 

She wipes the corner of Two's lips with the pad of her thumb. Two, momentarily jarred from how fast everything has moved, can only let Nyx take a ration card from out of her pocket right before a guard walks by, eyeing their closeness. 

"Thanks for the ration card, Lin," she says, voice smooth as honey, disappearing around the corner, Cheshire cat grin and all. 

Two takes a moment to herself, heaving in a breath as the guard moves on, before she pushes forward to lean against the railing overseeing the main hall. 

Four and Three seem to have reached a truce. 

Good, she thinks. Less complicated, at least between the two of them. 

Nyx doesn't spare her a glance as she goes back to lounging in her cell. Nyx is well aware Two’s watching, and Two knows it too.

* * *

 

Three and Four end up pushing all the blame on Arax’s men – they joined in on a riot that they wouldn't even try to win. He's stayed out of their way for the most part, but Two knows he’s annoyed that they tried to start a riot in the first place. She doesn’t like him, and the feeling is mutual, but he isn’t an enemy she wants to make, so she’d prefer to stay out of his way.

They're all reassigned to trash duty except Nyx, which is good in terms of planning their escape since that means there are no distractions – she really can't afford to lose her train of thought because of a pretty girl. 

They go over the details they have so far once, twice, ten times, before Three snaps at her and she returns it with a quip of her own. Four wordlessly carts over the last of the trash before he turns and leaves them at it.

She follows soon after, letting Three incinerate the last batch himself, and makes a beeline for the showers, stinking of sweat and a week of prison inmates' slob. 

It's a communal shower, but it's also the middle of the day, so she gets the showers to herself. The hottest the water gets is lukewarm, and that only lasts a couple minutes before it shutters into icy cold water. 

Two scrubs at her skin as fast as she can but the warm water still doesn't last long enough to rinse off the last of the suds. They sink into the ground with the cold water. 

She knows before she can turn that someone's behind her. She shuts the faucet and glances over her shoulder. 

Pushing a mop of wet hair out of her face and raising her eyebrows, she turns around fully and crosses her arms over her chest. She's never had a problem with nudity, but she feels oddly defensive. 

It's Nyx. 

"Did you need something?" Two asks, acutely aware of the water droplets slipping down the slopes of her shoulders and the lump in her throat that she can't quite swallow. 

Nyx scrutinizes her, then her lips push upwards into a smile. "No."

Two tilts her head, confused. "Then?"

Nyx steps closer, into a puddle that sloshes towards the drain, and Two fights the urge to retreat, instead she lifts her chin higher and unfolds her arms. 

"What do you think?" Nyx asks wryly. 

Two is too caught up in the moment to remember to roll her eyes; she just steps into the puddle too and pulls her in, hands warm against the sides of Nyx's neck. 

Nyx doesn't seem to care that Two's getting her tank all wet, actually she wraps her arms around Two's naked waist, bringing Two flush against her. 

It's disgusting, but she lets herself get pushed up against the communal shower wall (hygiene doesn't play a big part with regards to her physical well-being, but it’s still gross). She groans into the slant of Nyx's mouth and tugs at the hem of her top. 

Nyx has roughly 5 centimeters over her and Two takes advantage of it, scraping at her shoulder with her teeth. 

They fuck against the wall, sloppy and fast, before Nyx is taking a weak step back, taking the tank top off entirely. 

Her bra is nicer than what Two has, likely from her contraband dealings, and she feels the slightest bit envious.

Two leans into the wall, any reservations against how unsanitary it probably is long forgotten, and sucks in a breath. She watches as Nyx stuffs her tank into her pocket and zips up her uniform to the top. 

"Why'd you tell me about yourself?" She doesn't elaborate because she's sure Nyx understands. It’s been bugging her for ages – Nyx doesn’t seem like the type to just share these things with just anyone.

"I was going to end up telling you all sooner or later. Might as well get it over with," she says, waiting for Two to push off the wall. 

Two cracks a smile at her fake blasé attitude. "Well. Thank you."

There's a beat of silence where Two considers telling Nyx to head off first so she can rinse herself off again. Nyx is probably expecting that from her. 

Two pushes her damp hair over one shoulder and smiles again. Nyx returns it, albeit with a hint of confusion. Two doesn't like to be predictable, even if that's what she is a lot of the time.

When she's close enough, she rubs a thumb across Nyx's cheek and kisses her hard and brief before dragging away to grab her towel off the hook. 

Nyx is still standing in the puddle when Two strides off to get changed. Turnabout's fair play.

* * *

 

Things continue normally around the boys. Their plan strays from the original, a good thing, and Three's frown only deepens as the days go on. 

They agree to deal with their escape first before thinking about the rescue of One, Five, and the Android. No one brings Six up, even if they all know. 

Nyx finds her in the quiet moments: after she gets out of kitchen duty, in the showers, the free hour when the boys get the communal shower. 

Sometimes – most of the time, they don't have sex, don't even kiss, they just sit in one of their cells and talk mostly about the plan or, rarely, themselves. 

Once, when they're both sitting with their legs hanging off Nyx's bed, Nyx dozes off against her shoulder. Two goes deathly still when she feels Nyx slump against her. 

She watches Nyx sleep on her shoulder for the briefest of moments before she jolts awake at the sound of the guards marching by to usher the next block of inmates to the showers. 

Nyx grunts an apology and rubs a hand over her eye. 

"It's fine," Two says quietly as Nyx shuffles further down the bed. "Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

"I know," Nyx says. She grins, eyes still bleary from sleep, and her fingers catch the sleeve of Two's uniform before she can get off the bed. 

Two stills and raises her eyebrows in question. A beat. Then: "No."

Nyx lets go and shrugs. 

Two stops before she can fully step out of Nyx's cell. 

She turns to catch Nyx still staring at her.

"No," she mutters again to herself even as she twists Nyx's tank into her hands and yanks her in for a chaste kiss.

It's easier to put up emotional roadblocks when you have an excuse like  _ it's complicated _ . Except Two knows that it's only as complicated as she makes it. She knows. 

She brushes by a surprised Four on her way back to her own cell.

* * *

 

"Devon, the guy in the infirmary," Three says, "he thinks he can get us the plans for the entire station."

"And I guess the catch is a ticket out of here with his name on it?" 

Three nods at Nyx. "It's not a bad deal."

Four seems to agree with what Three's saying, despite the fact that he's spent most of the hour leaning against the wall of her cell, staring at the hair's width of space between Two and Nyx. 

She gives him a pointed look before she turns her attention back to Three who’s looking at her expectantly. 

Devon's a doctor, a useful addition to the crew, even with whatever skeletons he's got in his closet, and if he can really get the plans like he says he can, then she doesn't see why not. "Okay." She nods, meeting Three’s eyes. "Get him on board." 

"Portia Lin," the guard with the constant sneer cuts off whatever Four says next. "Solitude."

She scowls. "I didn't do anything."

"Solitude for what?" Three asks, gruff and annoyed. Four is off the wall, shoulders squared, a physical barrier in front of Two. 

"Nothing in particular," the guard says, stepping closer and forcing both of the boys back into the wall. "I just feel like it."

"You can't do that," Two grinds out. There are sounds of agreement from her friends, and Nyx places a hand on her forearm. 

The posse of guards' hackles rise. "Oh, yeah?" the leader says, hand drifting to the stun gun holstered to his hip, "Watch me."

She raises her hands and lets them haul her to her feet without too much of a struggle. 

They lock the door in her snarling face, leaving her with her shoebox sized cell and the Sim Yard. 

Frowning, she steps onto the pad with her arms already wrapped tightly around herself in anticipation for the cold, biting air of the Sim Yard.

Six. (Or, apparently, Kal.)

She hardens and keeps their exchange as short and to the point as possible. 

He apologizes and tells her where the rest of the crew and the Raza are. She only accepts the information. There's a  _ real  _ plan forming now. 

He's got a pensive look on his face when he blinks out of the Sim Yard. 

Two's just about to follow his lead when Nyx materializes and whirls around to face her. 

"What are you doing here?" Two asks, alarmed. 

"I knocked Three unconscious again," Nyx says, dismissively, like it's no big deal to admit to knocking out a member of the Raza crew to the leader of said crew. Two supposes that letting Nyx get away with things like that is an integral part of whatever their relationship is. 

Two meets Nyx halfway. They don't hug; it's more of a close huddle in a pathetic attempt to ward off the cold. 

"What happened?" Nyx asks. She's squinting off into the tall grass and Two eyes her jawline, the smooth brown skin over her jaw rippling as it tenses. 

"Six – Kal – he works for the GA – he bribed the guards to talk to me. I might know a way out of here now." 

Nyx moves closer, silent, and meets her eyes. The irises are soft and bright, in stark contrast to the harsh blues of the Sim Yard they reflected. 

"Well, I guess now we know for sure they don't monitor whatever goes on in here," Nyx says, the smirk Two has become so accustomed to making an appearance. 

Two laughs and hums an agreement when Nyx tugs her closer. 

"It's too cold to do anything," she says, more out of concern for Nyx rather than herself. The cold won't stop her, that's for sure; she's clawed her way halfway across the Raza in the vacuum without a suit once before, the Sim Yard pales in comparison. 

They don't do anything for a couple of seconds, just sharing body heat in the quiet of the empty Sim Yard, before Nyx springs into movement, kicking Two right in the stomach. 

She stumbles back, loses balance, but manages to roll into a crouch right in time to grab Nyx's foot mid-kick. 

The sole of Nyx’s shoes is at nose-level. Two forces it down and levels Nyx with a wholly unimpressed look.

"Really?" Adrenaline courses through her veins and her muscles tense under the thin fabric of the uniform as she clamps down on Nyx's foot and pulls. "If you wanted to spar, you could've just asked."

Nyx laughs as she hits the ground. It's high, almost delirious, and the sound tinkles through the cold air with a warmth Two is unused to, especially directed at her. (Five's laughs are quieter, equal in pleasantness, but higher, more subdued.)

Two straightens and positions herself over Nyx, straddling her waist. "And I win."

"Mhm, sure you do," Nyx says, drawing her in for a kiss. 

Two anticipates her next move before she even does it, slamming Nyx back down on the ground when she tries to flip them over.  Nyx’s breath is knocked out of her lungs, but it doesn’t seem to faze her. 

"Nice try." 

"Have you always been such a top?" Nyx teases. 

Two's nose wrinkles. "Really?"

Nyx laughs again and this time, she bucks Two off, twists them around, and has her arm around Two's throat in a matter of seconds. "This is familiar."

Grinning, Two backs into Nyx until she's forced to walk back too, and then she slides her foot farther back, tripping Nyx and sending them both plummeting to the ground. 

While Nyx is recovering, Two rolls off her. She pushes Nyx onto her front as a result, and digs her knee into Nyx's back, pressing the space between her thumb and index finger into the nape of Nyx's neck. 

"Two, one," she says. 

She feels the back of Nyx’s neck vibrate under her hand when she hums a sound of discontent.

Nyx surges to the side and twists around impressively, wrapping a leg around Two's neck. They both go down, but Nyx has Two's arm in an iron grip and she's the only one with a triumphant smile on her face. "Two, two."

Two swivels around. There's a crack. Her arm twists in a way that really isn't pretty, but it does the job. She slips out of Nyx's grasp, scrambles around to her hands and knees, and darts forward.

"Three, two," she says, breathless. She's on top of Nyx again. This time, she grabs the front of Nyx's uniform with her good hand and heaves her up. The other arm hangs limply on her side.

Nyx uses an elbow to prop herself up, the other arm snakes around Two's waist. They meet halfway, the sting of the cold against her skin is nothing compared to the warmth Two unexpectedly feels in the pit of her stomach.

They're kissing when they both blink out of the Sim Yard. 

The guard at the door gives her an odd look when she jolts back to reality, a grin spread across her face. 

* * *

Nyx has a couple more days left in solitary, which Two thinks is well deserved when she gets a look at the bruise on Three's face. 

"I fell. Into the sink."

"Okay.”

"I  _ did _ ," Three insists. 

“ _ Okay _ ,” she says again, flatly.

Four chuckles, a deep rumbling sound in his chest. "Nyx gave him a small push and he tripped over his own feet."

"No,” Three objects. “ _ No _ . I fell."

Two rolls her eyes and hauls the trash trolley into the incinerator. "Come on. One more time."

Three groans, even Four looks peeved. She wants to get this right. 

Suddenly the door shuts behind them and the incinerator whirs into life.

Three pushes the trolley out of the way and glares at the glowing walls. “What the fuck is going on?”

Both Two and Four run at the door, fingers groping at the cracks, even though she  _ knows _ they won’t get it open in time.

“ _ Open the door _ !” 

Three’s cursing up a storm and Two gives up, sweat slick on her skin. Four grunts and yells into the door again. 

It’s only a few short seconds later when the door creaks open, but it feels like centuries. They barrel out into the cooler air of the space station, into Arax. 

He grins, wide, and has his men leading them to his  _ office _ , for lack of better word.

He wants in on the plan. This time, he won’t tell his lackeys to stand down. Nyx shows up too, timing impeccable as always, glaring daggers at Arax, and taking grapes from the bowl in Three’s hands. 

Ultimately, it’s another piece slotted perfectly into the puzzle of their escape plan, even if the cost is a prison gang leader aboard her ship for a while. 

* * *

Things start to escalate. On top of their assassination attempt, they get pulled out individually to be questioned by Shaddick, and Two is getting antsier as the days pass. 

She  _ needs _ out of here, but they won’t get out of here without Devon’s prison plans, and Nyx needs to get this month’s shuttle schedule before it changes. 

Six had given her instructions on where to find Five’s quarters among other things. That was before the interrogation about Iriden 3, and now she knows it’s only a matter of time before the GA round on Five, assuming she’s the weakest link due to her age. 

Nyx notices, of course she does. 

When Four is in the showers and Three is getting a mystery visit, she makes herself at home on Two’s bunk and waits for Two to finish worrying over the plan in her head.

“I’m not a cuddler,” Two finally says. 

“Me neither,” Nyx replies, clipped. 

Two leaves the railing behind and comes up into her own cell. “Did you get the schedules?”

Nyx gives her an irritated shake of her head. “I’m getting there.”

“We–”

“I know,” Nyx interrupts her before she can go off on a tangent about the plan. 

Two’s eyes blaze. “We  _ need _ them.”

Rolling her eyes, Nyx gets up and heads off to a secluded corner of the hallway, outside the kitchen, without a doubt in her mind that Two will follow. No one comes here. Nyx knows the kitchen duty schedule. 

“I  _ know _ ,” she says against Two’s mouth, neck, chest.

It’s angry. They’re both frustrated and it rolls off them in waves, but Two tries not to take it out on Nyx until Nyx growls “ _ more _ ,” and finally Two’s got a hand down her pants and the other one at the clasp of Nyx’s bra.

They fuck hastily in their dark corner. When they’re done, Two knows at least one of her bruises is from elbowing the wall too hard.

They pant into each other’s skin in the afterglow. Two tips forward against Nyx for support, a cramp in her wrist and an annoying itch near the base of her neck from her own hair. It’s several more moments before either of them move. 

Nyx’s arms slacken around Two’s neck and she sinks lower down the wall. Two very deliberately pulls her hands from Nyx’s hips and smooths them down Nyx’s tank top. 

“Relax,” Nyx breaks the silence. 

Two breathes a sigh into Nyx’s hair and lifts her head up, pulling back a little. Nyx returns the favor and helps Two straighten out her clothes, parting completely when Two zips up her uniform by herself, her bruising skin disappearing from sight behind the gray of her uniform. 

They head back to Two’s cell wordlessly, not touching, but side by side as they both fix their hair.

Three intercepts them on the way, his face more rugged than usual, and presses a ration card into her hand. The hickey on Nyx’s neck goes unnoticed. 

“Lipstick,” he says. “Whatever lipstick you have, I need it.”

Nyx, perplexed, does as told, smoothly slipping it into his palm from her pocket. 

“What’s going on?” Two asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I–” Three stops himself and motions for them to follow him up to their floor. “Truffault visited me and she did something to me.”

Two shares a look with Nyx, concerned and uncertain. 

He makes a beeline for Two’s bunk, lifting the mattress and squatting down. 

“Look away,” Three commands and Two almost protests, but he’s frowning so deeply and she senses the urgency, so she does as told. 

They step out, partially blocking the view into Two’s cell with their bodies. 

“Come  _ on _ ,” Nyx hisses when she’s sure no one is paying them any attention. 

He hushes her loudly, and she huffs, indignant. Two grabs onto her wrist. She keeps it there, and Nyx lets her. (Or, maybe, probably, Nyx lets her, and she keeps it there.)

Four joins them at some point, and they share conspiratorial whispers before Three finally lets the mattress flop back down onto the frame. 

He drops the lipstick back into Nyx’s pocket. “Check under the mattress.”

It’s the Hyperion-8 plans.  _ Truffault _ ?

They will undoubtedly be in her debt after this, but it’s a small price for their freedom. 

Four and Nyx glance over too, both of their eyes widening, but Three shoves them aside and plops himself right on top of the mattress just in time to hide the plans from a guard passing by. 

“What’s the fuss?” the guard says. 

“Nothing,” Four replies as he backs off, presumably returning to his cell. 

The guard gives Four a dirty look but turns back to them. “Nyx, extra hands on kitchen duty.”

Nyx doesn’t seem all that bothered by this. Instead, she gives Two a look that Two can only describe as triumphant and follows the guard  _ merrily _ . When has Nyx ever looked merry?

“Soon,  _ lover _ ,” she drawls as she struts her way out, laughing as she goes. 

“Lover?” Three says once Nyx is gone. 

“Shut up.” Two scowls. 

There’s something about everything that’s happened in the past hour that seems paramount to their escape. 

Her mind races a mile a minute. A good ol’ prison escape. Nothing the crew of the Raza and a seer can’t handle. 

“We’re getting out of here,” says Two like a revelation. “ _ Soon _ .”

* * *

Nyx explains to them that the woman in charge of the kitchen duty, Matthews, is her contraband business partner and she has the shuttle schedule _ and _ the guard rotations. 

The extra information can’t hurt. 

The only holdup, however, is that Matthews doesn’t have the means to get to the raw data. Here, Nyx slides a flash drive between her fingers, letting it roll down her fingers and into her palm the way Two has seen Five do with a coin. 

A guard hikes his belt higher up and sniffs his nose. Nyx glances at him through the corner of her eyes and laughs loudly. 

Two only sees Nyx slip the flash drive into her sleeve because she’s sitting directly next to her. 

The guard sniffs again as he moves on to observe another table of inmates. 

“Matthews’ source won’t give her anything else,” Nyx says, picking the conversation up almost immediately after the guard is out of earshot. “We need access to a computer.”

“How do we know the information on that is good?” Two counters. “Who  _ is _ the source?”

Nyx shrugs. “It’s our only shot.”

“What about those tablets Devon uses in the infirmary?” Four suggests. 

“Those could work.” Three scratches at his unshaven chin. “Except if the drive has some kind of tech that’ll alert the GA when it’s plugged into a GA device and screw us all over.”

“As much as I hate him, Arax might have something,” Nyx says. 

And that’s that. Nyx slips the flash drive into Two’s pocket, fast enough that Two herself doesn't even register it, and stands. 

They all visit Arax, Four leading the group to where he’s lounging in an office chair, watching a wrestling match as he sticks a grape into his mouth. 

He dismisses his lackeys and twiddles his thumbs like the skeez he is, jumping at the chance to participate in the plan, cementing him as an official part of their escape. 

There’s a shuttle docking tomorrow, but it’s uncomfortably far from their section of the space station, and it’s too soon. The one in four days is a food restocking shuttle for the inmates, so it’s docked to the nearest station, and they have time to prepare.

Arax lets them take whatever’s left in his grape bowl and returns the drive to Nyx, pulling the wrestling show back up, as clear a dismissal as any. 

Three happily munches on grapes, draping himself on the lunch table, feet kicked up on another chair. 

They have trash duty soon, so she lets Three bask in the small victory. They’re smoothing out the final details of their plan, Nyx lazily fiddling with the flash drive in her hand, when a group of around six guards approach. 

“Can we help you?” Two asks, lethargic in her movements. She leans over the table to take a grape out of Three’s hand, drawing their attention to her, giving Nyx the time to hide the drive. 

“Nyx,” the one in charge says. “Your bunk’s being searched. Come with us.” 

“But, boys,” Nyx pouts, “I just fluffed my pillow for a nap.” 

She exaggerates a yawn, but the guard points his stun gun at her. “Hands where we can see them.”

Nyx rolls her eyes and complies, standing up. Then, she bends at the waist, hands still up in the air, and pushes forward. 

She’s kissing her. Two’s eyes flutter shut. 

Two lets Nyx deepen the kiss, tongue licking into the cant of her mouth, pushing something cold and angular into the hollow of Two’s cheek. The flash drive. 

Nyx pulls back with an audible smacking sound. Two keeps her mouth firmly shut. 

Nyx lowers a single hand and makes a show of  _ only _ plucking the grape out of Two’s hand. No funny business. 

The guards, disgusted, squeeze at Nyx’s shoulders, shoving her away. She catches the grape with her mouth as she’s manhandled, none too gentle at that. 

A guard sneers at Two. “We’re watching you too.”

When they walk away, Two opens her mouth long enough for the boys to see the flash drive. Three whistles, impressed, even Four has his eyebrows up. She knows the feeling. 

Later, Two spits the drive into the trash trolley, the first in line to be incinerated.

Nyx is something else entirely.

* * *

Two reviews the station layout as the guards change shifts. She has to commit it to memory if they want to get off this rock.

Almost everyone else is asleep, so she frowns when she hears the telltale clanking of heavy boots against the floor. The guards shouldn’t be passing by here for another ten minutes at least. 

She settles at the head of her bed, waiting for the guards to pass by. Except they don’t. The sneering guard in charge and his three straight-faced coworkers pull the shields down to her cell, not all that surprised that she’s already awake. 

“Let me guess,” Two says, annoyed. “Solitary.”

“Actually, yes,” the guard says, not particularly caring about the volume of his voice. 

Two digs her nails into her palm and refrains from punching the smirk off his face. “Just in the mood or do you have a valid reason this time?”

He grows tired of this, so he just rolls his eyes and has his coworkers drag her out of bed. “Come on, Lin. You’re not so tough in your prison jammies.”

Two’s thrown into solitary, but she swerves fast enough to catch him before he slams the cell door closed. 

“I didn’t  _ do anything _ ,” she says, gritting her teeth. 

He waves a shock stick close to her face and it  _ zzzzt _ s centimeters from her nose. “Back off or I’ll keep you in here for a month.”

Two composes herself and retreats, letting him slide the door shut with a loud bang. 

A moment later, the Sim Yard pad blink to life. 

She makes the connections quickly enough and is expecting him before she even steps on it. 

Six. He looks grim, like a man ready to deliver bad news, in other words, exactly like he’s always looked like since he’d betrayed them all. “Sorry for the hour.”

“Yeah, well.” 

“It’s Five.” Now, Two’s stiffening. He rubs at his knuckles and continues, “They’re going after the Android, and I think they’re going to threaten Five into forcing the Android to release her memory stores. Chief Inspector Shaddick is ruthless.”

Two’s frown deepens. “But?”

“But she’s got a plan,” says Six. She can tell he doesn’t approve of it very much. “Which means you’ve got to do this by tomorrow. I’ve tried to slow the process down as much as I can, but it won’t work for much longer and they’re getting suspicious. Just... tell me what you need me to do to make this happen.”

He needs Five safe. That’s the only thing he wants. The worry is written all over his face and Two wonders when he last shaved. He’s not part of the crew anymore, so she shakes those thoughts off as fast as she can. The issue at hand. 

“Okay.” She scrambles for something and– oh, it hits her.  _ Oh _ . “Stall longer. I can get a keycard. Once I’m out, the riot alarm will sound,  _ then  _ you get Five and the Android safe. Have them in the security room. The rest will rendezvous at the nearest docking station.”

“There aren’t any shuttle landings there,” Six says. “Not for another month at least.”

“I know,” she says.

He seems impressed by her plan when she finishes, but the mood is still somber. The situation with Five and the Android is cutting it too close for comfort.

“Good luck,” he says before he leaves. Two flashes out of the Sim Yard after him and waits to be let out. 

Tomorrow.  _ Soon _ , as Nyx had promised.

* * *

 

Their plan is something of a masterpiece.

Nyx finds her early in the morning first, so she decides now’s a better time than any to tell her the plan. 

“There’s a flaw there,” Nyx says, slowly like Two’s a toddler. “How the hell are you getting past the first step of your plan?”

Two smiles, no teeth. “My nanites. I’m an advanced synthetic.”

Nyx is silent, and Two runs a hand through her hair, getting off her bunk. Nyx forms the best conclusion based on what she knows at a rate faster than should be possible for  _ anything _ ; she relies on one’s predictability. 

Two can be unpredictable sometimes. 

She wakes the boys up and briefs them as fast as she can, because the faster the plan is put into motion, the better. Nyx is still up in her cell by the time she’s done, so she heads back up there and leans against the railing as Nyx stares holes into her back. 

Three and Four don’t even bother eating the breakfast slush; they seem to be enjoying a conversation at their table. Even Arax joins them. Two rubs a thumb over the metal railing. She will not miss this place in the slightest. 

Nyx clears her throat. She’s leaning against the wall separating two cells with her arms crossed. 

Two turns and lets the corners of her lips tweak into a smile. “Ready?”

“When we get out of here,” says Nyx, “I’m expecting an explanation and an actual bed.”

She kisses Nyx, bruising as always. 

“How about a headlock since you love them so much?” Nyx bargains. 

Two shakes her head. “I’ll be fine and besides, you’ll get solitary.”

Nyx smiles like she has a secret all to herself. When Two steps back, her eyes shine in the harsh white of the prison. Two jerks her head off to the side, watching as Nyx joins the boys at their table, before she puts her hands back on the railing. 

Arax gives her a small nod. Right on cue, one of his burlier men approaches her. 

And then she hoists herself over the railing, sets the ball rolling, and falls over the edge.

Someone yells something that sounds like  _get out of the way_ and she balls her fists, the veins in her neck leaping up against her skin.

It hurts like a  _ bitch _ . Her nanites do many things, sedation is not one of them. She can feel them though. There’s probably one hell of a bruise on her back, but she knows it’ll be gone in a matter of hours. The guards don’t know this. 

They bring her to the infirmary where Devon’s cataloging the medicine cabinet. 

Arax’s man isn’t faring as well as she is. He’d fallen too, but at least he’s unconscious. 

The story is that he pushed her, but she dragged him with her, and they won’t look further into it. Devon’s eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t say anything when she groans in pain. 

Two of the three guards return to their rotation, leaving the last one to take in any final accounts for the report he has to write for the warden. He’s the one who’s always jeering at them, the one in charge. He jumped at the chance to blame Two for something as she’d guessed he would.

She catches Devon’s eye and cants her head in a way that’s way too obvious, but before the guard can say anything, he gets the hint and strikes up a conversation. While the guard is turned, she picks up the heftiest looking tray and brings it down, violently on the guard’s head. He goes down like a bag of bricks and Devon yelps, crashing into his . 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?”

“Come on,” she says, dragging the guard’s body closer to reach for his belt. She takes the keycard from its compartment. 

Devon gapes. Stutters out, “But he’ll know it’s missing.”

Two wagers it won’t matter, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, so she scans the room for  _ anything _ . “Hand me your keycard to the medicine cabinet.”

“Uh. Yeah, okay, yeah.” He gives it to her and she immediately snaps it in half. She straightens and winces again. “You should ice that.”

She glares at him as she stomps down on the guard’s belt. 

“I’ll be fine. Take the ear plugs and put them in for the riot alarms, but take them out as soon as possible. Find the others,” Two instructs before she disappears down the hall, past a couple guards who don’t pay much attention to her. 

In the infirmary, Devon quells his panic and shoves the broken medicine keycard into the smashed up compartment of the guard’s belt. The crew of the Raza was as intimidating as the news said. 

He pockets the guard’s comms and puts a game face on. He’s getting out of here,  _ finally _ . Withdrawal isn’t fun in the slightest.

When the guards spot him leaning over their coworker, he clambers to his feet. “The inmate woke up and smashed a tray into him, but– uh– I sedated him. I was examining the wound.”

While he explains the mess, Two’s already swiping the keycard through a side exit and heading down the halls. 

She has ten minutes, so far she’s spent well over half of her time. She jerks back around the corner as a whistling guard makes his way down the hall, completely at ease. He doesn’t know what’s happening until he’s already down and even then, Two knocks him out barely a second later. 

She takes his gun and jogs on until she gets to the security room, a big, blocky  _ S _ next to the door. The keycard opens this door too. 

The woman at the console shoots to her feet, gun out the holster, but Two’s  _ much _ faster. She closes the door as soon as the woman falls back into her chair, passed out. 

Perfect. The woman had just sent all reinforcements to deal with the riot. Everyone’s passed out, except she spots Devon in the far right, sedating the guard probably, the earplugs on the ground. 

Her hands fly across the keyboard, sending a screech through all the guards’ comms, the riot alarm channeled directly into their ears. 

Three, Four, Nyx, and Arax are among the first of the prisoners to regain consciousness, but she doesn’t stick around to watch them reinitiate their riot. 

When she leaves, the door is left wide open and the guard is stripped of all her weapons. 

Holding a gun in her hand is more comforting than she likes to admit. Behind her, she hears shooting, and she feels her heart unclenching just a little. 

Five and the Android have reached security.

* * *

 

Nyx slips her way through the crowd. Three, Four, and Arax fall in line behind her, occasionally engaging with another inmate when necessary. They make it to the infirmary and find Devon sliding tranquilizers into his pockets. 

“ _ Hey _ ! Marcus Boone!”

They turn to find the posse of inmates that cornered Three before Nyx had intervened on the first day. 

Arax nudges Three. “You really had to scam  _ them _ ?”

Three rolls his eyes and stalks forward, arm already stretched behind him, throwing the first punch. 

Four and Nyx back him up as Devon tries to stay out of the way. Arax doesn’t seem all too enthusiastic to join in either.

Three dodges a punch and slams the other guy into the one Four’s got against the wall. Four backs off as they both crash into the floor. Nyx swipes the last guard’s feet out from under him and elbows the one that’s creeping up on her. 

Three grabs the guy when he tumbles back into him and Four knocks him out as Nyx straightens. 

“You could’ve just given them your ration cards,” Nyx says when Three lets the guy slump to the ground. 

“You bullied him out of all his ration cards,” Four says, only looking amused when Three shoots them both an ugly look. 

Before they continue to the same side exit Two used, Three takes a shiv from leader of the inmates. 

When they get to the door, Four stands directly in front of the camera, raising a hand, before he ripped it off the wall completely. Five mouths an “ _ oh _ ,” from where she is in the security room with the Android, and they override the lock. 

Three, Four, Nyx and Arax don’t bother sticking close to the wall, knowing most of the guards are in the main hall. 

* * *

 

Two navigates her way through the winding hallways. Hopefully, Five and the Android have caught on and cut the feeds from the security cameras to the warden’s quarters. 

She’s got one more stretch before she reaches the shuttle. It’s a weapons shuttle, so it’s docked farther from the prison section and closer to the guards’ quarters. 

At the end of the hallway, there’s larger set of doors, signaling the end of a section, which means she’s got a third of the way left. That’s the way. 

“ _ Hey, Two _ !”

She stops. It’s Five’s voice. The intercom. 

“ _ We didn’t cut the feeds fast enough, so the warden’s sending a whole troop of reinforcements that way. They know there are escaped prisoners. _ ” 

There’s no mic, so she raises her eyebrow at the camera. 

“ _ Don’t worry, I isolated this hall’s speakers. _ ” There’s a pause. “ _ You have to find another way. You can’t beat them. You have about two minutes before they reach your position. Three and Four have a bunch of strangers with them by the way. _ ”

Two gives the camera a reassuring nod which she hopes is enough. 

There’s only one way through to the shuttle and it’s that door. 

She approaches it and peers through the window. There’s a door directly to the right on the other side, and she points to it. 

“ _ That’s the laundry and waste decontamination room. _ ” It’s the Android this time. _ “There is only a row of washers, an incinerator, and an airlock for sanitation. _ ”

Two hears their footsteps before Five warns her: “ _ Two guards coming from behind. _ ”

Two sets her mouth into a thin line and swipes her keycard against the panel and slips through the big doors. They’re as thick as the length of her forearm, and she just manages to duck beneath the windows as the two guards round the corner. The doors close. 

She pushes into the laundry room. As the Android had said, there’s a row of sleek industrial washers pushed up to one wall and an incinerator at the end, next to the airlock. 

She curses under her breath as she hears the troop’s footsteps and the big door slide open as the two guards meet them. 

With only one clip left, she ends up leaving the useless guns behind her and crouches behind the washer closest to the airlock. 

There’s only one way out of here that doesn’t involve death. 

She glances at the camera in the corner of the room as she zips her prison uniform to the very top and blows a giant exhale out of her mouth. 

There’s one panel between the incinerator and the airlock, and she approaches it in the dimly lit laundry room. 

“Fuck,” she hisses under her breath when she discovers they’re on a fixed timer. She can’t get past it from here, so she looks at the camera again and points at the airlock. 

There’s a crackle from the intercom outside the laundry room, in the hallway. Five and the Android are probably broadcasting this to the entire station. “ _ I strongly suggest otherwise _ .”

The guards outside the laundry room erupt into chaos. 

Two scowls at the camera. 

The panel displays an error window before the airlock is overridden and both doors slide open at once. 

Ironically, the only way out of here is by walking out of a space station and onto the surface of a moon with no atmosphere.

She collapses from the blow of the cold, hurtling out as the air is sucked away. 

She’d forgotten how sudden it was, getting spaced, and she nearly screams. Except it gets caught in her throat, along with all the air left in her body; this is a whole different kind of torture. It’s like liquid cement setting into her lungs. 

The last thing she hears before she passes out is the sound of the airlock doors closing behind her. 

* * *

Three takes the lead, only because he knows the place best, then Nyx, Arax, Devon, and Four, who lags back in case someone ambushes them from behind.

They’re almost there. Three’s picking up the pace. 

“Wait,” Nyx barks out, grabbing the back of Three’s uniform and pressing into the wall. 

A group of guards marches around the corner, but Three gets the drop on the first one, stabbing the guard through their hand as they reach down for their holster. 

Three takes the gun and shoots the next guy, using the first one as a human shield. 

Four catches the gun Three throws his way and shoots two more. Nyx pulls Devon to the floor before he gets himself shot. 

Three grabs another gun and shoots once before Nyx is joining them in the fight. 

Four and Arax are holding their own, but Three’s gun malfunctions and he ends up just hurling it at one of the guard’s heads. 

Nyx kicks one in the chest, stunning him, then she snatches a nearby guard’s shock stick and thanks him with a swift blow to the face with the butt of the stick. The zapping end delivers a current into the one she’d kicked into a wall earlier. 

It’s almost like a fluid dance, the way Three, Four, and Nyx move, Arax only slightly out of place. He’s less experienced and moves in a way that’s expected of a prison gang leader, more static than the rest of them. However, in the end, it’s Devon who puts down the last one. 

Four and Nyx are tag teaming against a couple of guards and have them on the ground as Three strips the fallen guards of their weapons. They turn to see Devon administer a healthy dose of tranquilizer into the last guard aiming at Arax. 

The guard collapses, and Arax mutters a peeved thanks. 

“This way,” Three says as he hands Nyx, Devon, and Arax guns. 

Nyx holds onto the shock stick.

They reach the docking bay a little before Five and the Android do. Three grins when he catches sight of the Android poking her head around a door frame. Five skips around the corner a second later, gleefully waving a bulky gun around.

“Kid, you survived!” He’s not smiling, but Nyx can tell he’s pleased. “And give me Bubba.”

Five rolls her eyes when he plucks the gun right out of her clutch and almost seems to be hugging it. 

“Three,” the Android says, eyes boring into his head. “May I enquire about Hyperion-8’s inmate hygiene requirements? I suspect that there’s a large area for improvement.”

Five sniggers at that, pinching her nose in jest. 

“Whatever, robot.”

Four accepts Five’s hug, and though it’s fleeting, he seems to appreciate the gesture. “Good to see you, little one.”

“You too,” Five says, toothy grin and all. 

“Yes,” the Android cuts in, pointedly. 

Four seems to find this amusing. “And you, Android.”

Nyx has never met an Android with this much gall, and while she’s slightly taken aback, she’s also incredibly amused. The crew of the Raza is nothing like she expected them to be.

Eventually, Five looks curiously over at Nyx, Devon, and Arax. 

Devon grins first and digs his hands into his pocket in a boyish way. “Hi. I’m Devon.”

“Five,” she introduces. 

Arax squints at Five. “I’m Arax.”

Nyx side steps, anticipating Three’s next move, and he looks stupid as his hand comes down into empty space. Unperturbed, he gestures to Nyx instead. “This.” He adopts a shit eating grin. “Is Two’s girlfriend.”

“ _ What _ ?” Five says. Everyone’s staring at her.

She hides her discomfort with an easy smile. She also pinches Three. 

“Judging by the footage of your fight with your fellow inmates,” the Android says, “I determine that you are a good match for Two.”

“Yeah,” Five breathes out, eyes wide. 

“Thanks.” She holds a hand out. “I’m Nyx.”

Five takes it. She must’ve made the right move because Five returns the handshake with enthusiasm and a satisfied little grin. Nyx wonders how old this girl is, but saves the question for another day. 

There’s a large window overviewing the rest of the station which she turns to face. She stares out at the surface of the moon, at the dull, blocky structures that make up Hyperion-8. 

“The shuttle hasn’t left its position.”

They all fall silent behind her. Five stands next to her and eyeballs the shuttle, still docked to the guards’ quarters. From this far, it looks like it’s about half the size of Five’s thumb. 

No one says a word as they wait. 

* * *

The surface of her skin is protected by a sheen of her nanites. 

Two doesn’t breathe. She doesn’t dare open her mouth. 

Her nanites are focusing a lot of power on protecting her from the lack of atmosphere, explaining the feeling of atrophied muscles. 

It takes her another moment for her eyes to focus. She’s a couple meters out from the airlock and about 300 meters from the shuttle. The docking station where the others should be waiting is too far for her to comprehend right now.

Her nanites are working on overdrive and it’s seeping her of her energy. 

She gathers her strength to tense her muscles and experimentally gets to her feet.

The gravity on this moon is weaker than what she’s used to, which means it’s easier for her to move without her nanites at 100%. It’s not that great for coordination, but win some, lose some.

Walk. The hairs under her protective nanite layer rise, prickling uncomfortably against her skin. It’s  _ so _ cold. And painful.

_ Walk. _

Every step forward is agonizing and her knees feel like buckling at every step, but she forces herself forward. 

Shuttle. That’s her goal. Get to the airlock on the other side and then to the shuttle. 

She doesn’t know how long she was out, but the reinforcements will have definitely reached the prison by now. She sets her jaw and moves faster. 

It was worse out on the Raza: no gravity and a complete shock to her system. 

The ground is dusty and rocky. With every step, a plume of dust rises. Two miscalculates, her foot landing awkwardly. 

Her ankle is most likely dislocated. She limps forward, powering through the pain. 

There’s a haze in her peripherals, and everything seems just a bit off kilter as she crosses the distance.

Finally,  _ finally _ , she reaches the airlock. She pitches forward and claws at the outside for a grip to support herself better. It’s a blur as her hands fumble for the emergency open panel.

When it opens, she crumples to the floor and lies still.

The sound of the door closing shut behind her is practically orgasmic. She gulps in air as it floods into her lungs. Her nanites repurpose themselves, resetting her ankle, as she recovers on the cold floor of the airlock. 

The bruise from her fall is still a tad tender and her ankle isn’t coping much better, but she manages to shove herself up, using the wall as a crutch. 

Her keycard gets her into the shuttle, and she staggers towards the panels. The chair is a relief on her ankle, but she doesn’t give herself time to bask in it. 

Still sucking in the air greedily, she reaches for the panels, hands shaking. 

_ Fuck _ . Two’s not entirely sure if she’d said it aloud or not.

It takes her two more tries to get the shuttle moving. 

Her fingers stop twitching sporadically as she gains her strength back. 

She has the shuttle flying low, just barely over the surface of the moon, and docks at the rendezvous point.

The bruise is mostly gone and while her ankle throbs, she can brave the short hobble to the doors. 

She’s not doing that again, not if she can help it, that’s for sure. 

* * *

Five has her fists pressed to the window, and she releases it with all the air in her lungs when the shuttle lights come on at last. Nyx visibly relaxes too. 

It grows larger as it approaches and the Android is at the controls to open the docking doors for Two. 

Everyone gathers at the airlock, quiet with anticipation. Three has his hand on his gun. 

It’s a whole minute before the doors slide open. Relief floods into Nyx. 

Two is a sight for sore eyes. 

Five moves the fastest, crossing the short distance to envelope Two in a hug. 

“Hi,” Two sighs, face collapsing into something Nyx has never seen before. 

Devon and Arax slip by as the crew examine Two. 

“I’m okay, guys.” She ushers them away, out of the airlock and to the shuttle. “Get on board. Go. Come on.”

Nyx goes last. She watches as Two’s eyes flicker over Three’s shoulder to meet Nyx. He scoffs and takes a seat after that. 

Two looks exhausted, leaning heavily against the wall. She’s okay though, Nyx knows she’ll only get better, thanks to her nanites. 

Nyx darts forward and kisses her, hands balled up in her uniform. God, does Two want to get out of it; she’s long since gotten bored of the monotonousness of Hyperion-8, which says a lot coming from someone whose wardrobe is literally just different layers of black. 

Two pulls back, smiling tightly. “Later.”

Nyx is about to assent when she sees a man jogging towards them before he even does it. She holds the gun up and has her finger waiting on the trigger. 

“No, hold on,” Two says when she sees him. “That’s Six.”

“The traitor?” Nyx asks. Her trigger finger is itching.

“Let him on.”

Three, who hasn’t gotten on the shuttle yet, guffaws. “Yeah,  _ right _ .”

“He’s on our side,” Two says. 

“Like hell he is–”

Two silences him with a glare. Nyx snickers as she breezes into the shuttle and takes a seat up front, by the pilot’s seat. 

“Did you all make it?” Six asks when he reaches her.

“Five is safe,” Two reassures. 

He must spot the top of Five’s head in the shuttle behind her because he relaxes. “Good. And the rest?”

“On board.”

“Good,” he says again. “The Raza is still in orbit. They were waiting for Shaddick to finish her investigation before doing anything with it.”

Two nods. She’s waiting. He must notice because he smiles apologetically, depreciating. 

“I’ll seal the airlock from here,” he says. 

She frowns. If he stays, the GA will have his head on a platter. “What are you talking about? We’re not leaving you behind.”

Three is unhelpful as always. They ignore him for the most part, but Two sees the doubt on Six’s face, clear as day. He’s always been more of an open book than the rest of them (though, she may need to reconsider this one, considering the circumstance).

“We’ll drop you off anywhere,” Two says firmly. 

“No one’s going anywhere!” a guard yells, gun raised, aiming dead for Six. Two has her gun pointed at him as fast as she can.

They must know each other if the expression on Six’s face is anything to go by. 

“Step away from the airlock.”

Of course, Six lowers her gun; always trying to defuse the situation. He even looks genuinely sorry when he shoots. 

They both go down before Two can move. She feels for a beat and murmurs an urgent “ _ okay, okay _ ”. He’s alive. 

She grips at the sleeve of his GA uniform and looks up at Three and  _ knows _ she can’t do this without him.

“Help me.”

A slideshow of emotions flicks across his face, jaw exercising as he decides on what to say. They’re going to run out of time. She grabs the lapel of Six’s uniform and digs her heels in, steeling herself.

Three sighs and his shoulders lower as he bends at the waist, anything but gentle as he lugs Six on board. He dumps Six at the back of the shuttle and closes the door behind him. 

Two makes her way down the aisle of seats. She knows that they must’ve caught on by now and she’s proven right when the Android can’t get the docking doors open again.

Blasting out Hyperion-8 is as cathartic as experiences come. She swerves smoothly out of firing range, and she docks to the Raza in under five minutes. 

They load Six onto a stretcher and move him to the infirmary, moving with an efficiency that she’s silently thankful for. 

She accompanies the Android to the bridge so she can establish a neural link manually. 

The constant bleakness of Hyperion-8 has made her unaccustomed to the Raza’s softer glow, but there’s still a sense of  _ home _ here. She feels the tension slowly dissipate along with the ache from the injuries she’d sustained in the past couple of hours.

Once they’ve jumped to FTL, Two joins them all in the infirmary. Devon’s standing at the monitor and Five is worrying at her nails. 

It’s dire. 

After they get him into stasis on the lower deck, Two has the Android assign the newcomers different rooms in a separate section of the Raza as the rest of the crew head back to their own rooms. 

They deserve their rest. Saying today has been eventful is an understatement.

Nyx scoffs when the Android looks at her expectantly. 

“I can extract you by force if necessary,” the Android says. 

“Just Devon and Arax,” Two says. The Android only stares for a second more before she walks out. She unzips her uniform, tying it around her waist like Nyx, and holds an arm out. “Help me to the bridge?”

Nyx takes the proffered limb, mutedly letting Two direct them to the front of the ship. The doors are already open and Two leans against the nearest panel, the one she’d gone to when she first got out of stasis with no memory of her past.

The Android lets her know that everyone’s in their own chambers and Two thanks her, telling her to head off to her charging station. 

They’re all safe now. She’s safe now.

She sighs, running a hand over the variety of knobs and switches. The muscles in her back tense under the straps of her plain black bra as she rolls her shoulders back.

“Tired?”

“Yeah,” Two snorts, “to say the least.”

Nyx lets go of her arm, positioning herself behind Two and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. “I said I wanted a bed remember.”

Two turns and her hands wander up Nyx’s biceps. 

“You’ll get one,” she says. It’s dark in the bridge – Two kinda prefers it this way – and she ends up tracing the underside of Nyx’s jaw.

She’s well and truly spent, but she still presses into Nyx for a kiss. 

It starts chaste, and for the first time in a long while, Two is at ease. She’s back in the winding halls she knows like the back of her hand, surrounded by familiar winking lights and the humming song of the Raza.  She’s missed her ship.

Two feels cool metal digging into the back of her thighs and the curve of Nyx’s lips against hers. She backs Nyx into the chair and straddles her, taking the pressure off her ankle. 

Her lipstick comes off waxy on Two’s lips and she rests her forehead against Nyx’s, swiping a tongue out to her lower lip. Cherries.

Nyx’s palms are warm on her ribcage and  _ this _ , Two decides, is what freedom feels like: warm and soft and  _ current _ .

For now, tomorrow can wait. 

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> pls pls comment if u found any mistakes or if u kno.. just want to :^))))
> 
> hmu @portiallin on tunglr if u want to cry over the missed opportunity


End file.
